


victory (and then some)

by 7hourstoapocalypse



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 09:16:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21371755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7hourstoapocalypse/pseuds/7hourstoapocalypse
Summary: Thank you all for reading!
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16
Collections: Shadowhunters: The Ficlet Instruments





	victory (and then some)

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [sh_ficletinstruments](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/sh_ficletinstruments) collection. 

The sun set slower that day, illuminating the dragon's lifeless body. Behind it, the sky bled pink, yellow, red. 

Alec lowered his bow and allowed himself a moment of satisfaction as he sunk to his knees, bloody and exhausted.

And then there was the feeling of being _wrong_, all over. His body felt heavier, in a way that had to be beyond exhaustion.

But he still pegged it to his monumental feat, his victory.

That was his first mistake.

  
  
  


As the universe would have it, the dragon was loved by the pagan gods- blessed with strength, wisdom, _immortality_ or something close to it- and Alec had killed it, had achieved the impossible, and now he was cursed, damned, well and truly.

Why had he killed the dragon, again?

Honour, yes something about honour, ofcourse.

Honour and bravery and a buttload of stupidity, what was he even thinking?

Nothing that's what, Izzy would say, and Jace would shrug, and twirl that ridiculous spear of his.

  
  
  


The books said that there was no possible cure to the curse, but then the books had also said that the dragon was unkillable; clearly, they were in dire need of an update.

But that was only when he was awake. It was a different story altogether when he was asleep, which was more often than the former.

He dreamt of dying in all sorts of gruesome ways. Of blood, always blood.

But sometimes the dream would change, and there would be a man- Magnus, Alec had learnt recently. Magnus with his streaked hair, and soft words, and large frappuccinos for both of them.

And then Magnus would disappear, and in his place the blood would return. It was getting boring quickly, no matter how innovative his death became, and Alec would patiently wait out the dream(nightmare, sorry) to find Magnus on the other side, with his bright smile and warm arms, and he'd wake up with the phantom ache of gentle hands on his face, of soft lips on his.

Their conversations were brief but interesting, _bright_ (everything about him was bright, so damn bright) and more often than not, Alec would sob, and Magnus would hold him.

Maybe that was the real curse, not the sometimes-awake-mostly-asleep thing. This, this having and then not having, and then having again.

  
  
  


"I want to try something," Magnus offered, hesitantly. He was fidgeting with his ear cuff- a nervous tick- and Alec nodded, pulling Magnus's hands into his own.

"It may not work," Magnus added, and then summoned a tiara made of peonies.

Affection bloomed in Alec's chest, and he lowered his head with a smile. Magnus let the tiara rest on his head, and then grasped Alec's hands again, waiting.

There was a sudden tug around his navel, and then only weightlessness.

And then Magnus.

Real, beside him, with his warm smile and awed laugh.

"You are here," Alec whispered, dumbly. 

"That I am," Magnus agreed with a grin, "And you owe me so many frappuccinos"

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading!


End file.
